


Heartbreaker

by TheSadisticMunchkin



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aron been through a lot lemme tell u that, Heartache, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22436962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSadisticMunchkin/pseuds/TheSadisticMunchkin
Summary: After having his heart broken one too many times, Aron learned to instead be the heartbreaker.
Relationships: Kim Jonghyun | JR/Aaron Kwak | Aron
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	Heartbreaker

**Author's Note:**

> Best read with this playlist that I teased on twitter: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6UJ9xJrQLRw0579geb9iIZ?si=esQLDZWOTEOOAVJIDCOqSw
> 
> Enjoy my jronists uwu

At the tender age of five, Aron fell in love.

Youth and ignorance didn’t stop him from admiring someone’s beauty, from learning love at a moment’s glance. It all started with a single brush of fingers, and the soft muttering of an apology. Her hair smelled of strawberries and her hands were soft as pillows. Her presence filled him with more warmth than the sun beating down his back. When she spoke to him, his stomach filled with butterflies and his cheeks would flush red at the mere acknowledgement of his presence.

When he told her that he loved her, she gave him a toothy smile, and told him that she loved him too. His heart soared. No other feeling beat the absolute joy of being able to finally sit next to her in the sandbox at recess time. He shared his sandwiches with her, let her copy his homework whenever she forgot to do it, and held her hand every time she offered it to him. He was only five years old, but he just knew that she completed him.

At six years old, he got his heart broken for the very first time.

Not a call. Nor a text. Not even a knock on his door. He got the news from his mom when he asked her if he could go over to her house and play. The confusion in her eyes told him everything. He went to school the next day and she wasn’t in the hallways. Her spot in the sandbox was empty and the sandwich he saved for her stayed uneaten until he got home. His hand wanted desperately to hold hers but he didn’t even know where she went.

She never even said goodbye.

On that day, a piece of his heart was lost forever.

* * *

When Aron turned 15, he found love again.

He had sunset colored hair and his smile rivaled all the stars in the sky. He showed him all the forbidden ways to love. He taught Aron all the secrets that good little Catholic school boys shouldn’t be allowed to know. They held hands in the school bus parking lot, shared earphones during lunchtime, and kissed under the stars where it’s just dark enough that no one will be able to see them.

Loving him was like an adrenaline rush he couldn’t get enough of. Loving him was constantly running, wind hitting his face, and tears streaming down his cheeks from laughing so hard. Loving him was the wondrous bliss of something dangerous that he can’t help but be drawn to over and over again. He was fire and ice, day and night, and everything Aron wished to always possess in his corner.

His hair didn’t smell like strawberries. Instead it smelled like nicotine and his father’s cheap cologne. His hands weren’t as soft as pillows. They were ridden with tense bumps and scars that Aron wishes to kiss away. He was all rough edges and biting words. His breath smelled of cheap alcohol bought with fake IDs and bad decisions. 

_ He  _ was a bad decision. But Aron didn’t give a shit.

“Do you love me?” Aron asked him on one of their many late night escapades to watch the stars. He doesn’t answer even as Aron buries his nose into his neck. He doesn’t answer even as he pulls Aron’s chin up to close the distance between their lips. He doesn’t answer even if Aron asks it over and over again, between moans of pleasure and red marks sucked onto pale skin. 

Aron tells him he loves him. Aron tells him he loves him even while his breath is taken away. Aron tells him with every moan, every bite, and every thrust that makes him  _ feel  _ like one with the boy above him. He tells him he loves him with every soft gasp and whimper. He tells him he loves him until he’s reduced to a crying mess, limp and fucked out on the floor.

“Do you love me?” He whispers one more time.

The light in sunset boy’s eyes was replaced with an indifferent darkness that Aron found himself drowning in. He sat up to try and chase after him but his limbs fell weak beneath the overwhelming weight that his heart was harboring. He watched as the boy walks away from him, looking over his shoulder with a smirk that has been etched into Aron’s memory for eternity. 

Then he spoke words that took another piece of Aron’s heart and crushed it until it was dust in the wind.

“I never loved you.”

* * *

At 18, he had a boyfriend who broke up with him when his parents found out he was gay. They left the country without saying another word.

At 20, Aron met an older woman that never told him she was already married. Until her husband beat him to a pulp right in front of her. 

At 23, he almost got married. 

At 24, they broke off the engagement because he wasn’t enough.

He wasn’t enough. He didn’t  _ love  _ enough. He didn’t  _ care  _ enough. 

His heart wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t  _ his  _ anymore. He gave parts of his heart to the people he thought would cherish it, cherish  _ him,  _ but all he got in return was dust and rubble. A ghost of what his heart used to be. He tried to piece it back together, over and over and over again, but each time he did. It would fall apart just as it did before. Leaving behind a shell of cursed memories. Repeating this vicious cycle of a love that will never be made for him.

At 25, Aron started putting up walls. The remnants of his heart were fragile and even the smallest amount of anything akin to affection was going to destroy it. So his guard is up, his walls are made of steel. There are rat traps at the doors of his memories, so that people wouldn’t dare prod at his mind. He projects illusions of himself to others in order to avoid them finding out about the broken person that he really is.

After years of having his heart broken, Aron learned to instead be the heartbreaker.

* * *

His life turned around dramatically ever since. His words were sharper, condescending in a way that only he could ever find truly frightening. Aron took part in more one night stands, vintage summer flings, and alcohol induced insanity. He was numb to the pain, numb to the heartache, and numb to the way his lovers would look at him the same way he used to look at others.

His script was the same every night. 

_ “I don’t want to fall in love.” _

_ “Love isn’t really my thing.” _

_ “You’re mine tonight only.”  _

_ “I’m not yours. I never will be.” _

_ “But we can fuck to give you that illusion.” _

It’s quick. It’s painless. It’s a way to remind himself that he used to view love as just strawberry scented hair and cheap beer under the moonlight. As stolen kisses and unkept promises. Sandboxes, sandwiches, and sunsets.  _ Pathetic.  _ He made a promise to himself to never be fooled by such frivolous images of love again. In fact, falling in love will never be an option. It’s forbidden. 

It’s a way to keep his heart safe.

* * *

“Don’t you think you’re being a  _ little  _ dramatic?” 

“About what?”

Deep brown eyes look at him with sympathy, fingers tracing the tattoos on his abdomen, a never-ending stream of ink and intuition. Aron blew another smoke ring at his new lover’s face, smirking as he coughed at the proximity of it. 

“Your view of love.”

Aron raises an eyebrow and scoffs. His view of love was realistic. None of that fairytale bullshit. He got over that when he was 15 and he didn’t have to lose his virginity to know that either. His view of love kept him afloat for the past three years now. Tried and tested. The curious boy currently straddling his hips should be aware of the dangers of seeing love as all sunshine and rainbows. 

“You ever slept with anyone before?” Aron asked, propping up on his elbows to get a better look at the boy prettily sitting on his lap. “Cause those don’t sound like the words of a man who likes sleeping around.”

“I normally don’t… You know,  _ sleep around.”  _ He punctuates this with little air quotes. Aron blows another smoke ring to highlight them, earning a slap to his chest in irritation. “You’re just…  _ tempting.” _

“I’ve been told as such, yeah.” Aron pulls the boy closer, nibbling at his earlobe until he hears a delicious little whimper. “Am I your first time, pretty boy?”

“If I told you yes, would you go out with me?” Came the unexpected answer and Aron had to stop himself from laughing out loud.  _ God. What a mouth.  _ It makes Aron a little too excited to hear him bite back like this. He sighs against the boy’s skin, relishing in the goosebumps that rise beneath his fingertips. 

When he decided to bring this boy home for a quick fuck, he really wasn’t expecting…  _ this.  _ Whatever  _ this  _ was. He caught his eye across the club, thought he was hot, bought him a few drinks, and he thought that would be it. It’s always been like that. But this boy… This boy threw him for a loop. He doesn’t yet know what’s making him seem different from the rest of his one night stands but it intrigues him enough to want to take Jonghyun up on his offer. 

He really thinks that he can pull one over him like that.  _ Well, two can play at that game.  _

“I don’t know, Jonghyun.” He says, his eyes glinting with the prospect of a challenge. He pulls away enough to run an indulgent hand through the younger boy’s hair. “I’m not exactly the romantic type.”

Jonghyun shrugs. Aron raises an eyebrow again. 

“Just give me as much as you're capable of.”

* * *

“Hyung, I want a tattoo.”

Aron stared at him from his apartment entrance, dumbfounded and speechless. Jonghyun stood there at the door in a fluffy blue sweater and hair sticking out from beneath a simple white beret. He had no business asking him for a tattoo looking like he came straight from the daycare. Aron didn’t think he could ever get over the cognitive dissonance of Jonghyun’s overall appearance versus the things that come out of his mouth.

“You want a  _ what?”  _ He asks even if he heard it loud and clear.

Jonghyun rolls his eyes, pushing past him and plopping onto the living room couch as if he owned the fucking place. “You’re not  _ that  _ old, Aron. You heard me.”

“Yeah, no, I fucking heard you. But why?” 

The younger shrugged again while Aron closed the door because he sure as hell doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere, the entitled brat. Jonghyun makes grabby hands at him with a pout, a universal baby sign for  _ come here.  _ It was Aron’s turn to roll his eyes. But he sits next to Jonghyun anyway, automatically threading their fingers together. 

“You have a lot of them. I want one too.” He answered simply. “Besides, I heard you did stick and pokes. I was wondering if you could do it for me.”

“You want  _ me  _ to give you a shitty tattoo that will be on your skin  _ forever?.”  _ Jonghyun nods, smiling brightly. Aron sighs. “You’re so strange.”

“And yet you put up with me.” Jonghyun said while slyly moving closer to Aron until he was straddling him. “I think you’re into strange things.”

“Well, you’re definitely one for the books, kid.” 

Jonghyun smiles at him, all sunshine and rainbows with a tiny bit of mischief, and kisses him until Aron’s mind goes blank.

* * *

It’s a little late in the game when Aron realizes what’s going on.

He thinks it may have started when Jonghyun started borrowing his hoodies more often. Or maybe it was when Jonghyun gave him a new beanie when his was starting to wear out. Or the kisses that got softer with each passing day until Aron was even satisfied with small pecks to the cheeks or forehead. It could have been the late night conversations, the morning cups of coffee, or the 3am trips to 7-11. 

He doesn’t know when he started to talk to Jonghyun outside of his usual scripted quips of charm. He doesn’t know when he decided to let Jonghyun ask him questions, enough for him to know his coffee order and favorite chicken place. He doesn’t know why he lets Jonghyun into his apartment at ungodly hours just for him to take him on the strangest quests of stick-and-poke tattoos and overpriced slushies.

What Aron  _ does  _ know is that he’s  _ fucked.  _

He knows this feeling. He knows it all too well. He thought he got rid of it. He thought he got his walls up too tall for even the strongest man to attempt to climb. He thought he was ready to play with another man’s heart the way his was trampled and stepped on for years. Before he met this stupid boy with the sparkly eyes and the wicked tongue, he thought it was going to be  _ easy.  _ He was prepared to let him down  _ easy _ . He was ready to leave him at any point in time it was starting to feel too…  _ comfortable.  _

But he’s here. He’s comfortable and oh so fucking  _ terrified.  _

And it is all because of that motherfucking  _ Kim Jonghyun.  _

Kim Jonghyun and his dumbass smile. Kim Jonghyun and his witty remarks to Aron’s snarky quips. Kim Jonghyun and his ability to create a space where Aron can just express and… be  _ free.  _ He’s terrified of Kim Jonghyun. He’s terrified of who he’s becoming because of him.

And most of all, he’s terrified of falling in love again. He’s terrified that his walls will break down, and Jonghyun will crush the remaining shattered pieces of his heart until he’s nothing.  _ Nothing.  _ He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to get hurt. He doesn’t want to hurt  _ Jonghyun.  _ Jonghyun doesn’t deserve someone who is broken. He’s too haunted and too numb to the intricacies of romance.

“Aron?” Speak of the devil. He checks the clock.  _ 3AM.  _ “Bad dream?”

Aron looks back at him, at the disheveled bed hair and puffy eyes, and Aron silently thinks  _ bad decisions.  _ His head fills with thoughts and questions.  _ Why me? Why now? Why only when I’ve had my heart crushed a million times? How are you still here? When will you leave me like everyone else?  _

“Who  _ are  _ you?” He manages to say though he doesn’t even know why that’s the question he’s able to verbalize.

“I’m Jonghyun. And you are?” 

“You don’t know when to shut up, don’t you?” Aron says, a smile tugging at his lips despite his mental turmoil. “Always got something to say.”

“And you always got time to listen,” Jonghyun says matter-of-factly and Aron pauses in his musings. He looks at Jonghyun this time. Really  _ looks  _ at him. Then Jonghyun smiles softly at him, something not out of the ordinary, but something extremely fascinating for Aron at the same time. He’s seen him smile hundreds of times. Heck, Aron has kept a mental file of all the kinds of smiles Jonghyun has, against his better judgement.

But this one. This one is safe. This one smile is only seen at ungodly hours. This smile is what keeps Aron from running away. It’s what keeps him from taking Jonghyun’s heart and ripping it out of his chest. It’s what lets Jonghyun walk into his apartment at 3AM. It’s what lets Jonghyun know his coffee order. It’s what allows Jonghyun to be with him in ways that he hadn't let anyone for the longest time. 

At age 29, Aron started to feel something that is  _ dangerously  _ close to love. 

And for once… it isn’t as terrifying as he initially thought.

“No. No bad dreams.” He scoots closer to Jonghyun, close enough for their lips to only be inches apart. Jonghyun allows him to push him gently onto the bed until he was lying down on it fully. He allows Aron to straddle him and pepper him with feather light kisses. Jonghyun lets out small whimpers, Aron’s favorite sound, and he wills himself not to cry out loud with the sheer  _ gentleness.  _

One look into his eyes and Jonghyun just seems to  _ know.  _ He places a delicate hand on Aron’s cheek as a way of asking him  _ is this what you want?  _ Aron’s only answer was the longest and most tender kiss on Jonghyun’s forehead. They stay in that position for who knows how long, Aron’s lips pressed gently against Jonghyun’s forehead, and Jonghyun’s hand intertwining their fingers together. 

He promised himself once that he should never fall for the images of love that he used to have. Jonghyun was none of that. Jonghyun didn’t smell of strawberries or alcohol. Jonghyun didn’t like sandwiches or nicotine. Jonghyun doesn’t have sunset hair or soft hands. Instead, Jonghyun was too sweet slushies, shitty tattoos, and conspiracy theories. Jonghyun was moonlight, as he glows from the pleasure Aron gives him. Jonghyun was…  _ Jonghyun.  _ He’s terrifying but alluring. He’s the end of a cruel cycle, and the start of something promising.

In this moment, Aron decides to make a new promise to himself and to Jonghyun.

And it’s the promise that he’ll learn to love again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't yell at me about royally fucked because i know ufbsjdjs i've been yelling at myself already 😔✋ anw i hope you liked this littke angst trip!! Idk what it's supposed to be actually. I just wanted to write smth and ofc I used jron for it.
> 
> Follow me on twt @minmanager luvs 😎🤟k bye


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